American Criminal

by Shawn William Davis

  Glancing left, Ray saw the bridge he crossed earlier connecting the chasm walls. Glancing right, he saw the blue river meandering through the steep canyon until the sheer cliffs tapered down to a forest at river level. The river twisted its way through the green mass like a blue snake until it disappeared behind the mountains.

  Ray estimated the river was several hundred feet wide and fairly deep because of the deep blue that showed no evidence of a bottom. Puffy white clouds drifted lazily in the azure sky above the opposite cliff. He felt a moment of peace and tranquility before his mind came back down to earth.

  An idea suddenly struck him and he knew what he had to do. Ray returned to the ambulance and drove toward the cliff edge. As he neared the edge, he turned and drove alongside the precipice until he reached a place where the terrain sloped down to a sheer drop. He steered the ambulance toward the chasm and hit the brakes at the edge of the slope. He placed the gears in neutral and got out. Smiling grimly, he circled around to the back and pushed. The vehicle picked up speed as it rolled down the slope. Burnside let it go and smiled as it descended toward its doom.

  Ray walked behind the rolling ambulance and watched it disappear over the precipice. He approached the edge, peered over, and watched the metal monstrosity begin its incredible plunge toward the river far below. A horrific crashing sound blasted his ears as the front of the ambulance struck an outcropping in the cliff and spun, end-over-end, until it struck the water and disappeared into the blue depths.

  Chapter 36

  Fugitive

  Burnside couldn’t see a trace of metal in the deep blue waters. It was as if the vehicle had never existed. He smiled with satisfaction.

  Ray stood at the top of the cliff like a lone conqueror looking down on his enemy. He turned away from the precipice and strode across the clearing toward the forest. Distant mountains loomed high above the trees.

  They will never find me there.

  Ray felt free for the first time since escaping. His back was to the wind and his lungs breathed in fresh mountain air. He would rather die free in God’s country than live caged like an animal. It was a win-win scenario. Whether he survived or not was irrelevant. He was out.

  Still, he wasn’t about to give up. Being confined in prison had given him a thirst for freedom and he intended to drink deeply of it.

  Ray made sure the Taser was still secured in its holster and checked for the bottle of pepper spray and handcuffs on his belt. At least he wasn’t completely defenseless. The Taser could operate for weeks on battery power. All the cartridges were used up, but the base of the handle could still deliver a formidable shock. He didn’t know how effective it would be against any wildlife like a large bear. Hopefully he wouldn’t run into any.

  Burnside quickened his pace and returned to the trail through the woods. He passed by several empty camp sites and reached the intersection where the trail branched left, right and straight ahead. The trees around the trail blocked any view of the distant mountains, but he knew the general direction to go.

  Burnside halted when he smelled smoke coming from the trail to the right.

  Is it a forest fire?

  Burnside turned right and saw drifting plumes of smoke ahead. He stopped when he saw a glint of red metal through the trees. Ducking, he went off the path and slid behind a tree trunk. He peered cautiously around the edge of the tree and saw the sun gleaming off a red metal panel.

  Ray darted behind another tree trunk deeper in the woods. He peered around the edge and realized the metal panel belonged to a large red pickup truck. Two long fishing poles were propped against the back of the truck and a tackle-box rested on the ground. He also saw a Coleman lantern perched on an old wooden picnic table. Smoke drifted up beyond the cab of the pick-up.

  Burnside glanced down at the light blue EMT uniform he was wearing and realized it wasn’t exactly camouflage. In fact, it would stand out against the verdurous green environment. That just meant he had to be more careful. He needed to see what he was dealing with. Glancing right, he saw plenty of trees to hide behind. He ducked and moved behind the next closest tree. A blue tent came into view beyond the picnic table, but he still couldn’t see the fire.

  Burnside cautiously slid over to the next trunk and peered around it. He saw a man wearing an orange hunter’s cap and vest standing next to a lively pit fire. The man wore a plaid shirt rolled up to the elbows and a faded pair of jeans. He looked to be about 5’8” and maybe a hundred and sixty pounds.

  He’s no match for an escaped convict pushing two-twenty. I just need to get closer.

  Scanning the campsite, Burnside saw a hunting rifle propped against the front passenger door of the truck – within easy reach of the man tending the fire.

  That makes this more challenging.

  Burnside heard a sizzling noise and realized the man was frying fish on a grill over the fire. The man wore a thick oven mitt and held a long spatula, which he was using to flip the fish. The smell of frying fish was intoxicating. At this moment, Burnside realized how hungry he was.

  I must be careful not to upset the grill.

  Burnside scanned the camp site and realized his best bet was to return to the original tree he hid behind, so he could use the truck as cover. It was only a few steps from the front bumper of the truck to the man by the fire. Ray returned to the first tree trunk, ducked low, and slid over to the truck. Staying low, he crept along until he reached the front of the cab. The smell of frying fish was stronger than ever. Ray slid the Taser from its holster, ducked low behind the trunk, and worked his way to the edge. He took a deep breath and tensed his muscles for action.

  Ray stood from his hiding place, brought the Taser back over his shoulder, took three long strides and pummeled the fisherman in his right shoulder blade. The fisherman’s body tensed up as he collapsed. Burnside re-holstered the Taser and grabbed the man by the shoulders before he could fall forward onto the fire. Ray expertly brought him, face-down, to the ground and pulled his arms behind his back. He snapped open the handcuff case on his riot belt and took out the metal restraints, one-handed, as he was taught to do in the Police Academy. He snapped the cuffs on the fisherman’s wrists, stood up, and waited for the guy to come around.

  The unlucky fisherman groaned as he tried to move and found he couldn’t budge as he lay on his stomach with his hands cuffed behind his back. Burnside grabbed his arms and pulled him up. Ray led the dazed man to the picnic table and sat him down. As far as Ray was concerned, the man was out of commission and there was no need for further use of force.

  The man took a few seconds to focus and his eyes widened when he saw Burnside standing above him in the EMT uniform. The man’s orange hunting cap had been knocked off and his thick black hair was as disheveled as the rest of him. Ray guessed the guy was about his own age – early-thirties.

  “What’s your name, buddy?” Ray asked.

  “Tom,” the man said. “Who’re you?”

  “I’m Ray. Tom, are you here alone?”

  “Yes, I’m here by myself.”

  Burnside took several long strides to the front of the truck and picked up the hunting rifle.

  “I hope you’re sure about that because we don’t want any accidents,” Ray said.

  He held the rifle pointing towards the ground, but he was ready to raise it and fire at a moment’s notice. The rifle had a state-of-the-art scope on it. An image flashed into Ray’s mind of a pair of crosshairs focused on his old Tactical Team Leader, Mike Pierce.

  “Why are you doing this?” Tom asked. “I don’t have a problem with you.”

  “Nor I with you,” Ray said. “Unfortunately, fate has thrown me across your path. I’m not going to hurt you. I just need to borrow some equipment and I’ll be on my way.”

  “What kind of uniform is that?” the man asked.

  “Don’t worry about that,” Burnside said. “Suffice it to say I’m in a bit of a hurry and I’ll be on my way ASAP.”

  Burnside heard a s
izzling sound coming from the grill and remembered the frying fish.

  “Oh damn,” Ray said, as he transferred the rifle to his left hand and held it by the stock. He approached the fire and reached down for the fallen oven mitt and spatula with his free hand.

  The spatula had dirt on it, which Burnside wiped off on his pants leg. He reached over to the grill and flipped the fish over. There were two fish on the grill, cut into four decent-sized slabs. The fish were slightly blackened on the side facing up, but still appeared to be edible. Burnside liked his meat well-done anyway, and besides, there was less chance of catching a disease that way.

  “Sorry I have to take your fish,” Burnside said. “But it’s absolutely necessary.”

  The man leaned forward slightly and stood awkwardly to his feet. Ray moved toward him with the speed of a panther and shoved him back down.

  “Sorry, pal, I can’t let you move. It’s for your safety and mine.”

  “Are you going to let me go?” Tom asked.

  “Sure, as long as you cooperate,” Burnside said with an intentional hint of menace as he returned to the grill and flipped the fish. They were done.

  “Got any plates?” Burnside asked.

  “Over there,” Tom said, pointing to the back of the truck.

  Burnside strode to the pick-up and found a large duffle bag and several paper grocery bags in the back compartment. He checked the first grocery bag and found paper plates and plastic utensils in it. Ray placed the rifle next to the duffle bag and grabbed a couple plates and utensils with his free hand. He returned to the grill and used the spatula to put the sizzling fish on the plate. The pieces were large, so he ran out of room after placing two halves on a plate.

  Burnside carried the plate to the picnic table, placed it on the opposite end from the fisherman and returned to the back of the truck, keeping a constant eye on his prisoner as he did so. Not that the guy was going anywhere with his hands secured behind his back. Burnside knew from experience that moving quickly in handcuffs was difficult and launching an attack was next to impossible. Unless this guy was some kind of black belt and could use his legs as a weapon, he had nothing to worry about.

  Burnside retrieved another plate, returned to the grill and scooped up the remaining fish. He brought it to the picnic table, sat at the end, and went to work with the plastic utensils.

  Chapter 37

  Decision

  Tom remained calm while Ray finished his meal. Ray thought it showed common sense because the fisherman was obviously in no position to resist. Ray was no longer the slim, athletic guy he was when he entered prison. He had put on thirty pounds of solid muscle and was more dangerous than ever. Now that his hunger was satiated, he could concentrate on what to do next.

  “Stop looking so worried,” Burnside said. “I’m going to let you go.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Don’t worry about that. Suffice it to say I have to borrow your truck. I need you to cooperate for a very short time and I’ll let you go. If you are honest with me, everything will go smoothly. If not…”

  Burnside let the word hang as he glowered at Tom. Tom shuddered.

  “Sure, sure, I’ll cooperate. Take whatever you want. Just let me go.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “If it makes a difference to you, I have a family waiting for me. A wife and son.”

  “I’m a reasonable guy. I’m not going to kill an unarmed man,” Burnside said. He was wasting time talking to this guy. He needed to get going. “Do you have any clothes that might fit me?”

  “You can check the duffle-bag in the back of the truck.”

  “What about a cell phone?”

  “In the glove compartment. Take it. I don’t care,” Tom said.

  “Okay, good,” Burnside said, standing and walking over to the truck.

  He checked the duffle-bag and found several pairs of jeans that were obviously too small and several pairs of oversized lumberjack shirts that looked like they might fit. Ray stripped off his EMT shirt and tried on a brown and red checked lumberjack shirt. It was tight, but it fit. The best part was it was long enough to cover the riot belt containing the Taser. Burnside glanced down at the dark blue EMT pants and thought they could pass as civilian pants if they had to. There was a thin blue stripe running down the leg sections, but it wasn’t obvious.

  Burnside began pacing alongside the truck.

  It’s a fifteen minute ride from the main road to this section of trail. If Tom walks fast, it’s a thirty minute trek for him to reach the main road and flag someone down. I need more of a head-start than that.

  “How far is it to the spot you were fishing at?” Ray asked.

  “It’s a ten minute ride down the trail,” Tom said, gesturing with his head to the right.

  Ten minutes. Still not good enough. This is not going to work.

  Burnside continued pacing.

  The only way for me to obtain enough distance is to kill him.

  “We’re going for a ride in your truck. Where are the keys?”

  “In the ignition.”

  “Perfect. Let’s go.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the river. I need more of a head-start. I figure it will take you an hour to reach the main road from there. With luck, you won’t run into any traffic for another hour. By then, I’ll be long gone.”

  Now that he had made a decision, Ray went over to Tom, grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.

  “Let’s go, buddy,” Ray said, leading him to the passenger side of the truck. “I hate to do this, but I need to borrow your cash. You have a wallet on you?”

  “In my back pocket.”

  “Sorry about this,” Ray said, reaching into Tom’s back pocket and pulling out his wallet. He rifled through it and took all the cash – sixty-two dollars. Ray folded up the cash, placed it in his pants pocket, and returned the wallet to Tom’s pocket.

  Ray helped Tom into the cab and circled around to the rear compartment. Ray made sure the rifle was safely stowed away, closed the back of the truck, and circled around to the driver’s seat. True to Tom’s word, the keys were in the ignition. Ray turned the key and started the engine. He tapped the gas and pulled out of the campsite.

  The truck did a better job navigating the rough dirt trail than the ambulance did. The truck’s shocks kept the jolts to a minimum and Burnside was able to reach speeds of 40 mph. Tom sat quietly and Ray kept track of him in his peripheral vision. Ten minutes later, they reached a dirt parking lot near the riverbank. Ray parked the truck and got out. He circled around, opened the passenger side door, and guided Tom out.

  “Where are you taking me?” Tom asked.

  “Not far,” Burnside said, guiding Tom toward the river.

  If I kill him, they won’t find his body for weeks and I’ll be long gone. If I let him go, he could walk back to the main road in an hour. He’ll report me to the cops and they’ll search all the highways. There must be another way.

  Burnside wracked his brain for another way to incapacitate Tom. He didn’t want to start a pattern of killing innocent people. If he tied the guy to a tree, would he end up starving to death or being eaten by a wild animal?

  Wait a second. He has a cell phone in the glove compartment. I can use it to alert someone when I’m safely away.

  “Change of plan. Do you have any rope?”

  “What are you going to do? Tie me up and drown me?” Tom asked in a panicky, quavering voice.

  “Negative. I’m just going to tie you to a tree.”

  “No one will find me for weeks. I’ll starve to death,” Tom argued.

  “In twelve hours I’ll use your cell phone to notify the authorities that you’re here.”

  “What if a bear or wolf comes along? I’ll be defenseless.”

  “Animals are generally afraid of humans. If you shout at them, they should run away. Also, I’ll leave you some room to kick your feet. My only other option is to shoot you and throw your
body in the river. I can’t have you walking to the main road in an hour, flagging down a car and calling the cops.”

  “I have some spare rope in the back of the truck,” Tom said, dismally.

  “All right, we’re backtracking.”

  Ray led Tom back to the truck, opened the rear compartment and retrieved the rope. He led the fisherman to a thick tree trunk at the edge of the dirt parking lot and went to work. Ray ran the rope between Tom’s handcuffed arms and tethered him to the tree, which allowed for several feet of movement in case a wild animal came along. He tied the rope securely around the tree – high enough so Tom couldn’t reach it with his handcuffed arms. Ray supposed Tom could potentially use the metal chain to create friction on the rope and cut away at it, but the operation would take hours and by then he would be long gone. Either way, it was a win-win scenario.

  “Okay, pal, you’re on your own. Twelve hours from now I’ll alert the authorities that you’re here.”

  “What if you’re lying? I’ll die here.”

  “Look, you’re obviously a resourceful guy,” Ray said “The rope is only half an inch thick. If you work hard enough at it, you could create friction with the handcuff chain and free yourself eventually. Either way, you’ll be fine. Once again, I apologize for the inconvenience, but it beats the alternative of shooting you and throwing you in the river. Good luck.”

  Burnside turned his back on Tom and strode toward the truck. He entered the driver’s seat, hit the gas pedal, and kicked up a cloud of dust in his wake.

  Twenty minutes later, Burnside pulled the truck onto East Carmel Valley Road. He backtracked over the bridge and continued past the unmarked road where the prison was located. He passed more ranches to the left with horses and cows in corrals. Forested hills and mountains loomed on his right. Ray checked the speedometer to make sure he wasn’t speeding. Getting pulled over by the cops was not an option, although he still had the Taser in his riot belt. Of course, that would require getting up close and personal with the cop. He didn’t consider the rifle an option. Yet.